Bren of Redwall
by Crystalazer
Summary: The adopted Warrior of Redwall comes home after four long seasons with thirty fighting hares and grave news. Fluk Loomspear has anchored on the shores of Salamandastron!
1. Prologue

**Bren of Redwall  
**Written By Crystalazer  
Based on the **Redwall **series by Brian Jaques

:-.-.-.-:

_Now war does come a' calling  
When Loomspear's at the door  
Be it mountain road or forest path  
Hill or valley ford  
Naught will stop his conquest  
Lest mouse with destined sword  
Frees land and sky, sea and slave,  
Frees us all forevermore_  
**- Deed of Bren**

:-.-.-.-: **  
**

**Prologue**

Abbess Sonata paused from her morning stroll to admire the changing foliage of the trees in the orchard. Though the autumn season was almost half-over, the days were still fairly warm and the colors of the tree still jubilant. Smiling, the Abbess adjusted her habit and walked on, enjoying the quiet morning. "Autumn is the time of the harvest," She murmured to herself. "And we've not yet held a Naming feast. At this rate, I doubt we'll be able to think of one by the time winter sets in."

"Does the Abbess spend every morning muttering to herself?" Sonata turned at the sound of Maple, a clever mouse-maid and expert in the kitchen, beside her. "It's still nice enough t' eat outside, Abbess. I've brought flasks of cold mint tea and fresh scones that Yuan and I baked last night. Mayhap we might think of a solution better on a full stomach."

"Ah, Maple, how is it that you always know what to do in situations like these?" The Abbess smiled at the young mouse-maid. "Yes, I think that if we put our heads together over these undoubtedly splendid scones, we'll be able to think of a name for this mild autumn."

The pair decided to enjoy their breakfast under the pear tree. As they ate, the Abbess looked thoughtful. "Have you thought of something, mother Abbess?" asked Maple, and Sonata shook her head.

"No, not quite yet, but I'm sure it will come to me." Sighing, the mouse resumed her thoughtful expression.

"When d' you think brother'll come home? It's been almost four seasons and he still hasn't returned." Jolting her out of her reverie, Sonata looked sideways at the mouse, whose bright eyes had become wistful and somewhat misty.

"He'll be home soon, Maple. Don't you worry; that Bren is a young and dependable mouse." Patting her tenderly on the back, the Abbess handed her a handkerchief. "We all miss him."

"I know; I know…it's just that I never imagined my brother, of all good beasts, would be the next to wield Martin's sword." Maple blew her nose noisily on the handkerchief. "I've always thought of him just as gentle as the next creature. I've never dreamed, not once in my entire life, that he had any warrior's blood in him!"

Sonata smiled. "He'll be home soon," She repeated, and stood up with effort. "Oh my…I'm afraid my creaky old bones can't take much more of this strenuous activity."

"Oh, Abbess," Maple laughed and helped the older mouse up. "You're not old; not at all! We should go in before all the others go in. I have to help Yuan serve breakfast and you know how it is when the Log-a-Log shrews come to visit."

"Right you are, Maple." The two mice walked towards Cavern Hole paw in paw. Even twenty paw steps away, they could hear the hustle and bustle of the creatures coming down from the dormitories to breakfast. Another day at Redwall Abbey had begun.

:-.-.-.-:

**Authoress's Note: **As you can all pretty much tell by now, I'm not good with great big epic plots and stories, so I'll try this out and see how it'll fly. Hopefully, quite well. I haven't decided when in the plotline this story takes place yet, but it's somewhere between _Redwall _and _Marlfox. _I think. But I might change the latter later.

The main characters will be introduced a little later on, as this is just the Prologue. I'm also hopeless at writing sonnets and poems, so forgive the cheesiness of it. I tried to adapt Brian Jaques's style a little bit while incorporating my own technique. By the way, I would now like to take the time to say that _Redwall _belongs to Brian Jaques and not to me, which is probably a good thing.

The continuation of this story will depend on the success of the first few chapters. Hopefully, if things go well, I'll have the next chapter up by the end of this week. Possibly even sooner.

Until then, Crys

_Love it? Hate it? I'll never know unless you **review!**_


	2. Part One: The Return

**Bren of Redwall**

:-.-.-.-:

_Part One: The Return_

:-.-.-.-:_  
_

**Chapter One**

"Nooka; what a pleasant surprise!" Sonata clasped her old friend by the hand. Nooka was, as all otters were, a burly fellow with a good-natured smile and a tail the size of an oar paddle.

Playfully, he planted a wet, whiskery kiss on the old mouse's cheek. "It's Skipper now, marm. Ol' Loran retired a fortnight ago."

"Why, that's wonderful, Nook-I mean, Skipper." The Abbess smiled widely. "Do the others know, yet?"

The otter shook his head. "Jus' arrived, haven't we? And just in time for lunch, I see!" Indeed, Friar Yuan, a rather stout hedgehog with a smudged apron tied around his jolly middle and a chef's hat perched on his head spikes was bustling into Cavern Hole with the first of several food trolleys.

"Oh, wonderful!" The Abbess clapped her paws together. "We'll proclaim it right away, once everyone's situated!"

"Nah…you dun have to, marm. They'll all catch on sooner or later," The new Skipper tinged slightly pink, but Sonata would have none of it.

"Attention, all good creatures of Mossflower!" Tapping on a glass, the Abbess of Redwall soon caught everyone's eye and ear. "I'd just like to say, before we say grace for this delicious meal, that we are so very lucky to have Nooka, your friend and mine, as our new Skipper!"

This was met to thunderous applause and congratulations.

"Skipper, would you do us the favor of saying grace?" Sonata gestured to Skipper, who stood up and coughed before reciting:

"We thank the sun that warms our fur  
We thank the stream that quenches thirst  
We thank the trees whose fruit we pick  
Sweet syrup on paws we hasten to lick.  
Er…Thank you."

The otter sat down to another round of applause from every pair of paws.

"Splendid, Skipper!"

"Gee, you make that up on the spot?"

"Well, er, I guess I did."

"Well, you did a gurt job, mate!"

"Hoi dearly loves a good verse oiself, as much as oi does a good meal, zurr!"

The meal certainly was delicious. The moles contributed a hefty turnip n' tater n' beetroot n' deeper n' ever pie, the diameter of which was so wide that it was placed in the very center of the table so that everybeast was within reach of it. Surrounding the large pie were late summer salads, dollops of meadow cream, strawberry and raspberry fizzes and cordials, cold mint tea, platters of Mossflower Wedge, loaves of hearty nut bread, three kinds of fruit puddings and pies; even a delicate flan topped with mounds of blueberries and drizzled over with rich brown maple sauces.

The inhabitants and visitors of Redwall alike fell to the food with much gusto. The dibbuns especially, were excited as they were for every meal. Their definitive squeaks of delight and high-toned, half-distinguishable comments mixed in with the general rabble of conversation.

"Try a dollop of this meadowcream on that wedge, m'boy! It's lookin' mighty plain!"

"Mmph…oi gurtly loikes this turnip n' tater n' beetroot n' deeper n' ever pie, zurr."

"Why, you little rogue! Sister Thrush, did you see what Pinky just did to my raspberry slice?

"Pinky, did you steal Brother Roger's slice?"

"Pinky 'only tasted a likkle bit. Jus' a likkle, Pinky promises!"

"…Nevermind Pinky, Roger. Here; try a bit of this pumpkin pie instead. I made the crust myself."

"You've truly outdone yourself with this delicious flan, Friar!"

"Thank you kindly, Abbess. It's all thanks to Miz Maple, though. Maple, m'gel, tell 'er how you made the flan!"

"Sorry, Abbess, but it's my secret recipe!"

Amidst good food, friends, and laughter, no one noticed two mousemaids silently slip away from the table.

"Shush, Susy, you promised that you wouldn't say anything!" Amaryllis Field Mouse looked at her sister, who put both paws over her mouth, trying to stifle the laughter that simply couldn't be stifled. "What if someone saw us leave? That would ruin the surprise!"

"Oops…sorry, Rye. I just can't help myself, sometimes." Susanna Field Mouse, or Susy, simply as she liked to be called, took a deep, calming breath.

The older of the two mousemaids sighed, playing with the sleeve of her gown. "Hopefully, we'll be able to get out and be back by dinner time and no one will have missed us."

"What if Bilbun catches us, though?" Susy was referring to the elderly gatekeeper of Redwall, who loved riddles almost as much as taking a quiet nap under one of the nice shady trees in the orchard.

"He won't, Susy, not if we hurry. Don't worry; I know where the extra key is hidden. He's shown it to me before. Now come on before lunch is finished!"

With a little effort on the two mice's parts, the gate opened and they slipped through like little shadows into the cover of Mossflower country.

:-.-.-.-:

**A/N: **Well. One chapter and one reviewer. That's still better than nothing. If you read this chapter, at least give me an indication that you read it. Please. For both my sake and the people who actually enjoy this story. I'll love you forever if you review.

...Okay. So I lied. The main characters didn't make it into this chapter. But they will next chapter._ Promise._ They will. Or you can hit me on the head with a rotten bologna. I also got the next chapter out much faster than planned, so...yay for me! (does happy dance)

Also, to make the story more reader-friendly, I decided that after a certain number of chapters, I'll start taking character requests. If there is a character of your own creation that you would like to see in _Bren, _I'll consider them. When you review, state the name, species, whether the character is good or evil, and just a tad of their personality. If I like the character, I'll add them in. You can start sending in your ideas now if you'd like.

By the way...the chapters might seem a little short because I'm trying to average about a thousand words per chapter. And while I'm at it...pardon the molespeak. I'm not too fluent in their dialect at the moment.

_Love it? Hate it? I'll never know unless you **review!**_


	3. Chapter Two

**Bren of Redwall**

:-.-.-.-:**  
**

**Chapter Two**

A lean, leggy creature raced across the flatlands, sandy coat a blur if one could see it, for it blended in perfectly with the dusty grasses of the plains. The ears of the perilous hare Skimear, almost twice as long as any ordinary hare's ears, stuck flat to his head and back as he picked up speed. "Won't you bally leave a perfectly innocent hare alone? He ain't done nothin' to you!" Skimear roared behind him. When no answer came, the hare allowed himself to skid to a stop. Looking around and seeing nothing but land and sky, he twitched his whiskers in frustration.

"Huh," he mused to himself, "Musta ran so fast I bally left 'im behind in the dust. And by the fur on my mater's behind, I better get back before they catch me…or Bren and Saril!" Turning tail around, Skimear set off at the same blinding speed in the very direction he came from.

Bren was very annoyed. "You fool-headed hare; where did you go?" He muttered, leaning on his sword and scanning the surrounding area in hopes of seeing the said beast. His companion sighed.

"Be patient, Bren." She said soothingly. "You know how hares are; he'll come back once he's hungry enough." Looking at the sun, she chuckled. "In the meantime, we might as well set up so he doesn't talk us to death complaining." Taking flasks of fresh water, a paw-full of cherries, and a slightly flat, but large, seed cake out of her pack, the squirrel-maid set about her task of preparing lunch cheerfully.

"But all the same, I can't help worrying," replied Bren, sitting down beside Saril. "It's not like him to miss a meal. And with the vermin patrol jacked up now…what if he's been captured?"

"You worry too much, friend." The squirrel answered, waving a paw lazily. "Skimear's a Salamandastron hare, after all. He knows his way around these parts."

"EUUUULAAAALIIIAA!"

"Skimear!" Saril called, popping up and waving her paws towards a small cloud of dust in the distance. "We've over here!"

The young hare bounded over as fast as his legs would carry him, propelled by his powerful hindquarters. "Get down!" He shouted and reflexively, both mouse warrior and squirrel archer ducked as Skimear leapt, landing right behind them and covering his head.

"What's going on?" asked Bren, and Skimear crept closer.

"Keep quiet; both of you." He whispered with fervor, "Vermin patrols; more than sixty an' less than a hundred bounds from here. They're headin' towards the mountain." He gestured to the vast mountain fortress that was Salamandastron, vague purple against the early mist. "I'm goin' t' go ahead and alert Lord Whitetooth. You two catch up fast as ya can. I'll see ya both in two shakes of a vermin tail, wot?" With a swift wink, Skimear disappeared.

"Well?" Saril and Bren looked at each other. Without a word, both set off running towards Salamandastron, kicking up dust in their wakes.

:-.-.-.-:

Fluk Loomspear laughed uproariously. At last, the fabled mountain was near. The treasure was to be his! Conqueror of both land and sea smiled wickedly, showing two rows of gleaming gold fangs, each as hard as steel. A jaunty, red, wide-brimmed hat hung dangling precariously from one ear, hiding three large diamond studs. The diamonds were the stoat's most valuable plunder yet, and the brother to the three was set in his massive spear, which he kept at his side always. Snarling to find his grog cup empty, he yelled for his first mate, Ripsnout. "Ripsnout! Bring yer captain more grog lest it be off wid yer head!"

Hastily, Ripsnout flung open the door to the Captain's quarters with a large cracked pitcher half-full of grog, the preferred drink of corsairs. "More grog it is, Cap'n!"

Cup now full, Fluk took a deep draught and laughed again, gesturing with his cup at the open port window, sloshing grog everywhere. "Wunnerful, ain't it, me hearty? Jus' think, in a few hours, all that will be mine! The biggest treasure trove any-beast has ever clapped their puny eyes on!"

Thankful to find the stoat in a good mood, Ripsnout allowed himself a shaky laugh. "Aye, Cap'n." His voice became more confident. "Tis the biggest ol' rock I ever did see."

"Not jus' a rock, Ripsnout," The black stoat leapt off his great wooden chair and snagged the first mate by his scrawny neck, pulling him towards the window. "That's the mountain of a badger lord, that is. Have you never seen a badger?" Fluk's raspy voice became softer and more sinister as Ripsnout shook his head slowly. "They sez he can kill ten corsairs wid one single blow. (That's more than you can count, me bucko, jus' so we're on the same page an' all.) He can chop off their 'eads and roast their bones. Oh, they're sumthin' to be reckoned with, badger lords." Nodding sagely, the corsair released Ripsnout and sat back on the chair with a loud yawn.

Ripsnout was a loyal first mate and followed Fluk's orders without question, but there was something he just couldn't put together in that thick-headed skull of his. "Er…Cap'n? If'n them badger lords are so powerful, then why'd we hafta fight 'im?"

Fluk chuckled and patted the dim-witted Ripsnout on the head. "That's why I'm captain and you're not, Ripsnout. Now run along and keep watch, me hearty, an' let yer captain do the thinkin'."

With that, the searat was dismissed. After he closed the rotting old door behind him, the Stoat corsair laughed quietly to himself, a laugh that would have made seabirds fall out of the sky if they could have heard. But there had been no seabirds for a long time in the skies that Fluk Loomspear conquered.

:-.-.-.-:

"M'lud!" Lord Whitetooth of Salamandastron looked up from his scroll and over his small spectacles, peering at one of his runners, a dubious haremaid named Periwinkle, at the door with Skimear and two breathless others, a squirrel-maid, and a mouse carrying a large sword. "We have urgent news, sah. About the vermin patrols."

The badger lord's calm smile was replaced with a stony visage. "What is it, Periwinkle?"

"Er…well, I'm not quite sure, sah. I think it better if one of them tell you, sah." Bobbing a quick curtsy, the haremaid whisked out of sight.

"Skimear Sassafras Sacramarful—"

"Yes, yes, Skimear, I know who you are. Please continue," interrupted Whitetooth impatiently.

"-Sacramarfulty reporting for duty, sah." Skimear saluted smartly. "There have been vermin sighted in the southern regions of Salamandastron, sah. They seem to be a group sent in advance for scouting and negotiations; a group of ferrets and foxes with the odd stoat or rat thrown in, sah. Forces numberin' in sixty total, sah!"

Whitetooth's eyes narrowed slightly. "Were they just a ragtag gang or—"

"Permission to speak, Lord Whitetooth." The mouse stepped forward.

"Permission granted," replied the badger.

"They bore the pennant of Fluk Loomspear, lord." Whitetooth closed his eyes and let escape a low snarl from under his breath.

"I was afraid of this," He said, finally opening his eyes. Lifting his massive frame from the comfortable library chair, he beckoned to them. "Come. We must prepare a special welcome for our…guests. It seems that war is coming to Salamandastron."

:-.-.-.-: 

Okay, I admit it, I'm in love with the hares.

_Love it? Hate it? I'll never know unless you **review!**_

P.S. MSWord doesn't appreciate my hare-lingo and corsair-guage._  
_


	4. Chapter Three

**Bren of Redwall**

**:-.-.-.-.: **

**Chapter Three**

Salamandastron was in an uproar. Thrush and Yarrow, twin gallopers of the highest degree, voted immediately to set upon the vermin band. They were but two of many eager new recruits who had never been in battle, though the older campaigners had told them many a story of the Long Patrol's heroic deeds. Sergeant Barley Hightail countered, telling the young hares that if war was indeed, inevitable, then it would come to them and not the other way around.

The calamity eventually grew so loud that Lord Whitetooth had to bang his metal knuckles, being his weapon of choice, on the great table and made several permanently large rifts in the wood. "Silence!" He roared, and a hush descended immediately upon the crowd.

"Friends," Whitetooth continued in a calmer voice, "We cannot make a wise decision unless we have learned all the facts in this matter. Skimear of Salamandastron, Bren of Redwall and Saril of yonder forest will tell you of all that they know."

The three friends, between them, retold the whole encounter. After the story was through, Whitetooth asked every creature's opinion, including the two that were not hares. After this, he asked for five more minutes of their time to wait for his answer.

"I have made my decision," said the mighty badger lord finally, "I will send Sergeant Barley's patrol out to stop the advance guard from reaching Salamandastron. We will then see how this Fluk Loomspear responds. If he declares war on our mountain, then we will fight to the death protecting it. Meanwhile, I will also send thirty of my best hares, along with Bren and Saril, back to Redwall Abbey. If we shall need back-up, which forbid we will, we shall send for them, along with any other able-bodied recruits the kind Redwallers are able to spare. This is what I have decreed, and this is what shall be done. Council dismissed,"

Standing up, Lord Whitetooth left the Grand Hall and nine-hundred-some hares.

"Did'ja hear that, mate?" Skimear elbowed Bren with a grin. "We might get to fight after all!"

Saril shook her head. "You've got it wrong, Skimear. No doubt you'll be sent back to the Abbey with Bren and me." The young hare's ears bent down in disappointment.

"Aw, don't worry, me laddie buck." Zippy, a hare who had long since retired from the Long Patrol, patted him on the back. "The scoff's always top notch."

Bren agreed. "You should see it, Skimear! Creatures from all over Mossflower come just for the feasts! Maybe, if we're lucky, we'll be there in time for the Nameday!"

Skimear brightened up considerably.

A lusty cheer came from the deck of the _Hellbird, _Fluk Loomspear's pirate vessel.

"Cap'n Loomspear, sir, we've beached on the shores of Salamandastron!" Ripsnout opened the door and saluted.

"So we have, Ripsnout. So we have," Smiling, Fluk hefted his massive spear in his hand and swept past his first mate and onto the deck, the black velvet lining of his magnificent cloak tickling the rat's nose.

"My kin; hearken to me!" All eyes turned to the stoat captain, his voice booming out among the desolate seas. "We have landed on the turf of the legendary Salamandastron! Inside yonder mountain lies a treasure we corsairs have only dreamed about an' I fully intend 'ta take it! Once we conquer the badger and his hares, this'll all be ours! Once we conquer this mountain, I, Fluk Loomspear, promise to you all a share of the treasure! Are ya with me?"

Another loud roar rose among the crew of the _Hellbird._

"Fluk Loomspear the Magnificent! Fluk Loomspear the Conqueror! Hail! Hail! Loomspear!"

"Bad news, m'lud." Barley returned with a grave face. "We managed to deal wi' the advanced guard, but the leader managed to get away and we lost Misty to a stray arrer. She told us to tell you that she gave 'em blood n' vinegar; best she could."

Lord Whitetooth frowned. "Thank you, Sergeant. I'm sure she made us proud. Does Alva know yet?" He was referring to Misty's mother, Salamandastron's main cook, who had already lost her older son, Bluepaw, in a battle against vermin four seasons ago.

"No, m'lud."

"Then please inform her and bring Yarrow down. I've decided to send her to Redwall. Also, if there are any hares that you think should be sent alongside those I've already chosen, please feel free to do so."

"One more thing," The hare added as he turned towards the door. "I've just been given word from Thrush, who chanced to sweep by the south shore. She regrets to inform you that Loomspear's ship has anchored, sah."

"Am I hearing you right, Earwig? Are you telling me that sixty of the best trackers and scouters in my horde couldn't take on ten measly hares?" Fluk's voice was dangerously sweet.

"Uh-um-um-um…yes…yer 'ighness?" Earwig had debated whether or not to lie and decided that it would be better to tell the truth. He tried convincing himself that the mighty Stoat captain might let him off the hook.

Fluk heaved a great mock sigh and clapped a paw on the guard's scrawny shoulder. "Well, you tried yer best, me matey."

Earwig perked up as he was now sure that Fluk was not too angry with him. "Thank yous, yer greatness-ARGH!" The stoat flung the lifeless, and now headless, carcass of the rat into the sea.

"It wasn't good enough, matey." He hissed and turned back to his frightened horde. "Well?" He asked them, beady eyes like twin coals flashing dangerously. "What do you say to this, eh, me hearties? Ol' Earwig was yer chum; I can see the fear in some o' yer eyes. But he wasn't good enough t'be in Fluk Loomspear's crew! He failed me, y'see? See to it that none of you fail me, lest you want the same fate as ol' Earwig, here. Carry on, my horde beasts. I want the whole crew to be well-rested and well-fed in three days' time. Then we will begin the conquest." Showing his gold molars and two of his gold fangs, Fluk returned to the ship, leaving seven-hundred corsairs to finish erecting their tents and continue their forage for food.

"That Loomspear's somethin', ain't he?" Bilge said admiringly to his partner, Gorse, who nodded.

"Aye," His voice was scratchy with age and he had a stooping, humped back. "I'd be real feared if it were I he was talking to."

"Good thing it ain't yous his greatness is talking to, eh?" Both lowly rats turned to see Blackwhip, captain of _Corpse_, one of Fluk's corsair fleet, leering at them through slit eyes. The lanky black fox snarled. "Better get back to work, 'stead of standin' around and chatterin' like two crows, 'fore I call the big bosses on yous."

"We-we-we-we're working, Blackwhip, sir!"

"Yeah, yeah, we're workin' real hard!"

Showing that they were, indeed, working hard, Bilge began to dig sand frantically out of a hole with his paws while Gorse was digging in the opposite direction, replacing the sand. Blackwhip snickered.

"Well…see to it that yous finish 'fore dark, y'hear?" Sauntering off, the fox couldn't resist one final glance behind him. The two horde rats were still digging and getting no where. "…or yous might be diggin' yer graves."

"I'm sorry, marm," Saril gently patted the old cook on the back. "Truly, I am. I know how hard it is to lose a loved one."

Alva sniffed loudly and took the given handkerchief from the squirrel's paw. "First I lost Bluepaw and now Misty! Oh, oh, it's just too horrible! They were so young, so young! Iffen I'd a known that they'd be marching off 'ta their deaths…I would never have let them go!" She broke into a fresh wave of sobs.

Bren sat at a nearby table watching his friend console the heart-broken hare, feeling a little awkward. The young mouse had never quite gotten used to such sudden tragedy. He had met with Misty once before, if briefly, and saw the light of battle in her eyes. He knew at once that she had been a good beast. Fidgeting nervously with the hem of his tunic, he turned back to his porridge, which was still left untouched. His mind was reeling with so many thoughts that he didn't notice Barley sitting down next to him until he spoke.

"Havin' a good 'ol staring contest with yer porridge, now, eh, young Bren?" The Sergeant nudged Bren good-naturedly, then sighed grimly. "We're all sad 'bout Misty's departure; she was one 'o the sweetest, but fiercest fighters I ever did meet. And poor Alva is all broken up, too…"

"Is this the way war works?" asked Bren, and Barley looked surprised.

"Aye, Bren…but it'll get worse…much worse. War taints the soul. We're brought up this way, 'specially experienced campaigners like myself, so 'pose we're used to it, but for a young'un like yerself…difficult…mighty difficult, now."

Bren looked thoughtful for a moment. "Say, sergeant? D'you think that it would be good for Alva to come to Redwall? I mean, it's peaceful there and it might get her mind away from the deaths of her children. Plus, there's still one position left to be filled."

"T'would be just the bally thing 'ta cheer her up!" Barley smiled and twitched his nose so that his bushy mustache swayed from side to side. "I believe I'll propose that preposition 'ta her right now. Iffen you'll be excusin' me," Lifting himself up from the long bench, the sergeant practically bounded over to the group of sympathetic hares in which Saril and Alva were contained.

The mouse watched as the sergeant's vigorous gesticulations using his ears and paws soon caught onto the entire crowd. Many pairs of ears bobbed up and down as they all encouraged Alva to go to Redwall. Finally, the almost-white pair of ears that represented Alva nodded as well and a cheer rose up among the crowd. It was official. The thirtieth member of the Redwall Patrol, as it came to be called, was filled.

**:-.-.-.-.: **

**A/N: **Do mine eyes decieve me? No? I got another reviewer? Huzzah!

Anyway...character requests will be filled in a few chapters...Chapters up through Nine have already been planned out, but if you're really anxious, say so and I'll tweak the plot a little. Also, plotline seems weak and random now, but be not feared, for Crys has a master plan...

_Love it? Hate it? I'll never know unless you **review!**_


	5. Chapter Four

**Bren of Redwall**

** :-.-.-.-:  
**

**Chapter Four**

"Thanks for all your hospitality, Lord Whitetooth, and this marvelous dagger as well." Saril drew the precious gift from her belt. It was made of shining steel with a silver hilt. A Peridot was set into the pommel stone.

"May it serve you well." Whitetooth replied. "Good fortune be with you…Bren of Redwall, Saril, and our Redwall Patrol!"

A hearty cheer of "EULALIA!" rang out among the entire lengths and weapons flashed in the early morning sun as thirty hares, a mouse, and a squirrel set out on their long march towards Redwall.

Yarrow, having a nice, mellow voice, struck up a marching ditty that the rest of the patrol caught onto quite quickly as they departed from the mountain. The beat was invigorating and thirty-two pairs of paws hit the ground in unison.

"Oh, we're the hares, the hares of where?  
Sal-a-man-da-stron!  
Where's our home where we were born?  
Sal-a-man-da-stron!  
Where's the place that we'll protect?  
Sal-a-man-da-stron!

Oh, we're the hares, the hares of what?  
The Long Patrol, of course!  
We're proud members of what, you say?  
The Long Patrol, of course!  
Never ever will we stray!  
From the Long Patrol, of course!

Oh we're the hares, the hares that cheer!  
E-u-la-lia!  
When vermin hear, they'll hide in fear!  
E-u-la-lia!  
Heroes here to save the day!  
With a grand ol' E-u-la-lia!  
Once again, let them hear us say!  
EUUUULAAAALIIIAA!"

Bren and Saril couldn't help but be swept up with the rest of the crowd on the last stanza, waving their sword and dagger in the air and shouting at the top of their lungs.

Suddenly, a hush descended upon the crowd. "I say, lads, what's goin' on back there?" Skimear craned his head up to see what was the matter, but Bren pushed him down again.

"Shush, Skimear!" He hissed. "It's Windwood; he's spotted something." Indeed, the said hare had risen up a paw for silence. Drawing an arrow from the quiver he had strapped to his back, he expertly nocked it and aimed it at a seemingly random bush.

"Come out, who ever you are, lest I make you!" His tone left no room for argument.

"P-p-please don't hurt me!" A small furry white bundle tumbled forward, brushing leaves and bracket from its fur. "I swear I won't do you any harm!"

"Why, it's on'y a little bunny. Your kind don't belong out here, wot?" Windwood lowered the bow as the rabbit sniffed daintily.

"Why, it's on'y a little bunny!" The young rabbit mimicked Windwood, twitching his nose. "You don't see me calling you a big, ugly hare, do you? No! I am a rabbit, thank you very much."

"You've got quite a lot of cheek," Yarrow stepped forward. "But Windwood is right. Rabbits don't usually live around Salamandastron. Why're you here?"

"Well, Miss, I'll have you know that just because rabbits and hares are related, distantly, mind you, that doesn't mean that I have no manners like you. I happen to be the son of the Lady Bluebell Barnabas Sacramarfulty and if—"

"By my blinkin' peepers!" Skimear leapt to the front of the crowd. "Bluebell is my old auntie's second cousin! Which means that yer that…that Hippo feller they're always tellin' 'bout!"

"Excuse me? My name is Hipdart, thank you very much." Hipdart looked indignant as he looked Skimear up and down. "And that must mean that you are that Skimear fellow. Oh yes, my mother is always telling me about how brash you are. Well, I should hope that particular trait of yours stays on your side of the family." Twitching his own ear, the rabbit looked at the rest of the group.

"Well, I shall be going now. It was very nice meeting you all, yes, very nice indeed. Good day to you!" With a little toss of his head, Hipdart turned tail and disappeared under the brush.

The Redwall Patrol paused for a few moments before laughing uproariously, pounding each other on the backs and guffawing.

"Did 'ya see the way he stood up, all proper-like?"

"Right little rip he was, wot?"

"Did you see his face when he said we had no manners?"

"Oh, oh, Bren, I don't think I've ever seen anything so funny in my entire life!"

"Humph. Imagine a leveret like tha' related 'ta battle hare like myself!"

Once they had regained their composure, the Patrol continued on in good spirits.

"Why do you think that Hipdart is all the way out here and not in the woodlands, like he belongs? Do rabbits usually stray out here, Saril?" Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Bren looked to his squirrel friend.

"Now that I think about it…rabbits aren't built to live in open plains like hares are. They usually live in Mossflower. They can't run as fast or far as hares can. Maybe he got lost?" The squirrel-maid fumbled with her dagger. "Nah," she said, answering her own question. "Rabbits are usually too sensible to get lost."

"Oh, come along, Susy!" Rye led her little sister deeper into Mossflower. "I'm positive that the flower is somewhere around here. All we have to do is find it!"

"Are-are you sure, Rye? It's almost dark, and I don't think that those flowers grow this deep into the forest." Susy shivered slightly as a breeze ruffled her tawny fur. "Maybe we should head back soon…"

"Nonsense!" Shaking her head, Rye kept moving forward, side-stepping a thorny weed. "We're almost there, anyway!"

"But how do you know?" The younger mousemaid persisted, tugging on Rye's sleeve.

"I just do, Susy! Don't be so scared; just keep close to me, alright? I'll scare away anything that might come at us." Just to prove her point, Rye swung the woven basket above her head in a circle. Both mice screamed as the basket came in contact with something that gave a loud shriek.

It fell out of the low branch it had been perching on and landed at their feet with a muffled thump. It did not move or make another sound.

"Whaa—what is it?" Susy poked her head out from behind Rye's back. Bravely, her sister bent down to examine it.

"It's a bird!" She said in a soft whisper. "Oh, it's a bird, Susy! It's a big black bird, and I think I've killed it!" Her voice was nothing short of terrified. "Oh, Susy, I didn't mean to! Truly, I didn't!"

"It's not your fault, Rye. You were just trying to show me that there was nothing to be afraid of!" Susy grabbed onto Rye's sleeve again.

"But what are we supposed to do now?" Rye sat down next to the dead bird. "It's too late to go back to the Abbey; the sun has gone down and I'm not sure which way we came from anymore! Oh, I hope that they've figured out that we're gone."

"Should we try to find our way back anyway?" asked Susy, and Rye shook her head.

"We'll probably get more lost than we are now. It's better to wait here for them to find us."

The two mice huddled together as night fell on Mossflower Country.

**:-.-.-.-:**

** A/N: **So I'm a little ticked right now. I spent almost three days trying to tweak the plot in order to fit the character requests in, but it didn't work out quite as planned. So I'm going to go with my original plan and you'll all have to wait a little longer. But don't worry; everyone knows that some of the best characters come in late in the plotline. This chapter was actually done quite a long time ago, so sorry for the lateness.

Yes! Fear the marching song, which got stuck in my head for two hours because...it did. Also, I know that Saril is originally an archer (most squirrels are), but there's no harm in a pretty dagger that can do some mean damage.

_Love it? Hate it? I'll never know unless you **review!**_


	6. Chapter Five

**Bren of Redwall**

** :-.-.-.-:  
**

**Chapter Five**

"Mother Abbess…have you seen my little Amaryllis and Susanna?" Delia Fieldmouse was bustling to-and-fro, cleaning up the remainders of supper. "I know that they like to play with the young ones, but I've already asked Sister Candace and she says that she's seen neither hair nor tail of either of them since lunch!"

"Come to think of it, I haven't seen them lately. Have you checked the infirmary?" Sonata looked up from her book by the fireplace.

"Yes, and the cellars too! I know that they are good friends with Hedge and Emmy, the cellar-hogs, but they've not seen either of them!" The mother mouse's voice held a tinge of panic now.

"I'll help you look, Delia. I'm sure they haven't wandered too far off. Both of them are sensible young mice." Standing up, the abbess took her friend by the paw and led her towards Cavern Hole. "We'll find them. Don't worry."

But after a half hour of scouring the whole of Redwall Abbey, from the North ramparts to the cellars for the second time, Amaryllis and Susanna still weren't found. Delia was in tears and Jameson, father of the two, was patting her tenderly on the back.

"We will send out a search party immediately, Delia, Jameson. Skipper, Roku, and Hedge are dependable beasts; they'll be leading the party." Sonata sighed and plopped into her own armchair. "You're welcome to spend the night; actually, I think that might be the best idea. There are extra beds in the infirmary. That way, when we find Rye and Susy, you will be the first to be informed."

"Thank you, mother Abbess." Jameson sighed. "It's un-natural for Rye and Susy to wander off. Rye is almost an adult; she should know better."

"As I've said before, Jameson, don't worry. They've both got good heads on their shoulders. They will be fine. Why don't we all get some rest now?" The three mice turned to go when Maple burst into Cavern Hole.

"Abbess, oh Mother Abbess!" She skidded to a stop in front of Sonata.

"What is it, Maple?" asked the Abbess, as the mousemaid fought to catch her breath.

"The west gate; it's unlocked! Bilbun just found out and the search party just left…and we found this." The mousemaid dug around her skirt before producing a frayed purple headband. "It's Rye's headband."

Delia burst into a fresh wave of sobs. "Oh, oh! I knew it! I knew that my little daughters would be out there all alone in the dark, and cold, and—"

"Don't worry, Delia." Sonata took Delia's paw in her's and spoke firmly. "You get on to bed; I'll stay up to wait for news. It will be good for you to rest. You've been through a lot today."

Sniffing, the Field Mouse took the offered kerchief and blew daintily. "Yes, yes, Mother Abbess. You're right, of course. Rye and Susy can take care of themselves just fine…I'm just worried, so worried."

"As any mother should be, Miz Delia," Maple took up consoling the mother, and Sonata smiled in thanks. "Let's get you up to bed now. Sleep, and Rye and Susy will be home when you wake up." Still speaking soothing words, Maple led Delia towards the stairs.

Once out of earshot, Jameson shook his head and chuckled. "That Maple had my wife wrapped around her tail, she did. Such a clever maid,"

"Yes, we do appreciate having her here at the Abbey. She's very able. Maple takes care of the young, the old, and being Yuan's assistant to boot. Her brother, Bren, was a goodbeast as well." Abbess Sonata sighed. "But he went off adventuring with just himself and the sword of Martin."

"Oh?" The Fieldmouse father looked surprised. "I wasn't aware that Maple had a brother."

"You and your wife hadn't moved into Mossflower country yet; this was a little after you sent your daughters here to live with Sister Parsnip. Bren's not truly her brother," The abbess explained, "Our Maple found him when he was just a babe, a few steps from the edge of the woodland. She loves him just as if he were her brother, since her parents died and she has no other family.

"Bren grew up so serious and modest. He helped out with anything that he could and was talented in sword-craft. It makes us think that he's originally from the Northlands. Old Skipper Loran made him a little wooden sword when he grew a bit older.

"Then about four seasons ago, the spirit of Martin touched Bren and told him to take up his sword and head to Salamandastron, the legendary mountain of Badger Lords._'Seek the Longears and the russet-tailed where sand meets sea and is ruled by mountain.'_ He said. Our Bren left the next morning. We've not heard news of him since, but we have faith that he'll come back."

"He sounds like a fine beast." Jameson agreed before yawning. "Oh my, excuse me. I feel the need to hurry to bed myself."

"Yes…good night, Jameson." The two bid each other goodnight.

:-.-.-.-:

"Well lookie here! Looks like a coupla' lassies got themselves in a tussle, wot?" Rye opened her eyes groggily. A grinning, whiskered nose filled her whole line of vision. With a short shriek, her balled paw hit the nose dead-on.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!" The nose disappeared, replaced by a leafy canopy and patches of early morning sky. "My blinkin' nose! It's half-hangin' off!"

"It's your fault for leaning that close, Skimear. Honestly," A female voice chided the "Skimear," which, Rye realized, must have been the beast she hit.

"You almost scared Rye to death with your rude awakening, Skimear. Where are your manners?" A second voice, strangely familiar, sighed. "What are we going to do with you? Are you alright, Miss Rye?"

Sitting up, Rye stared in amazement. Hares filled the clearing. A few were inspecting the dead bird while the rest were here and there, passing out provisions, boxing, and examining several maps and compasses. A few stray shafts of bright sun shone though the changing foliage, marking the time, which was late into the morning.

A squirrelmaid with a dagger in her belt was arguing with the hare clutching his nose.

The mouse who had spoken to her had sat down beside her, smiling good-naturedly. He was a dashing creature, with dark brown fur and dark, bright eyes.

"Bren!" Susy's voice had come out in place of hers as the younger sister flung herself onto the said mouse. "Oh Bren, it's you! You've returned!"

"Yes, yes, Susy, I've returned, and I'll be going soon if you don't let go of me."

"Oh," Slightly embarrassed, Susy let go of Bren and hurried to sit down beside Rye. "So tell us, Bren! Where have you been for four whole seasons?"

"I was following Martin's wishes, of course. I found the "Longears" and the "Russet-tailed." Skimear is the one who Rye punched and that's Saril with the dagger. I met them on my way to Salamandastron. The twenty-nine other hares here are from Salamandastron too. Lord Whitetooth sent them." Explained Bren, gesturing. "We're heading to Redwall right now." His voice became grave. "Fluk Loomspear has landed on Salamandastron's Eastern shore." Replacing his stern look with another smile, he continued in a lighter tone. "What are you two doing all alone and this far west of the Abbey? Are you the raven-slayers now?"

"We were looking for moon-flowers for Sister Narzi. You remember her, don't you? Well, she's our Abbey Recorder now after Sister Penelope retired and she told me that the pollen of moon-flowers can turn ink silver. We thought that it might make a nice present, so we came looking for it and got lost." Rye fiddled with the edge of her dress. "But we couldn't find any, and got lost, I suppose. I accidentally killed the bird last night when I was swinging the basket around."

Bren smiled. "I know it may not seem like it right now, but it's a good thing that you did, Rye. That crow was waiting for you two to fall asleep so that it could kill you. Luckily, there was only one. But where there's one, there's bound to be more. Crows move in flocks. We shouldn't stay here too much longer."

"Oi! Bren, come and look at this!" Saril walked over and held out a gleaming object. "We found it tied around the crow's neck. What do you make of it?"

The mouse examined it. A small gold pendant with strange carvings around the edge surrounded a scarlet stone; a ruby, perhaps. "It's certainly pretty," He said, handing it back. "I'm sure any bird would like one of those hanging around their necks."

"T'was probably a symbol of power. You might want to keep it; might come in handy later on." conjectured Barley, who had abandoned his scouting to come inspect the trinket himself. "And I don't believe you introduced us to these fine young lassies, wot?" He nodded approvingly at Rye and Susy.

"Oh…right." Bren looked slightly embarrassed. "Barley, this is Rye and Susy. I've known them since I was a dibbun. Rye and Susy, this is Sergeant Barley Hightail, one of the hares of Salamandastron. And I'd introduce all the rest of the patrol too, but it looks as if we're ready to leave, so you can get to know them yourself. We'll take you back to Redwall; it's only about half a day's walk from here."

"You're really coming back, Bren?" Susy squealed and squeezed his paw. "Oh, the others will be so surprised!"

:-.-.-.-:

**A/N: **Don't worry; the requests will come in eventually. I'm suffering from lack of sleep and overdose on homework at the moment, so my mind isn't working properly.

_Love it? Hate it? I'll never know unless you **review!**_


	7. Chapter Six

**Bren of Redwall**

:-.-.-.-:

**Chapter Six**

Rye liked the Salamandastron hares immediately. They were talkative and friendly, wringing her paw every time she met one of them. Some of the older hares were very polite, offering to help her over particularly knotty stumps or across wet stones of which they were afraid she would slip and fall.

Skimear, the hare she had hit, had gotten over the attack quickly, although there was now a somewhat of a large swelling on his nose. Indeed, it seemed as though he had already forgotten about it, chattering to Susy, who was just as talkative, about this and this or that and that. They passed a very pleasant time.

Saril the squirrel was a good companion as well. She wasn't one to beat around the bush or honey-coat her words. Though a gentile creature she seemed, there was a quiet fierceness around her that made Rye glad she was a friend and not a foe. Upon asking the red squirrel if Rye might take a look at her dagger, Saril withdrew it easily and handed it to her, warning the mousemaid to take care not to cut herself on it.

"I should very much like to be a sword-maid," Rye mused, turning the dagger in her hands. "It must be exciting."

"Aye, it is exciting…and dangerous too." Saril sighed. "It's a Redkin tradition to learn the art of sword-wielding. We're a warrior tribe, really, though civil in most aspects. It's hard when you're the only female squirrel warrior in the fam'ly. Growing up with six brothers and being the youngest does things to you." Rolling up the sleeve of her tunic, the young squirrel revealed an inch-long scar just below the shoulder. "I'm an archer by blood, but I'm not bad with a blade, either. I got this one in my first sword-fight against my next-to-oldest brother, Quinzo. I lost, of course, but my old pops, Rimdye, figured out that the sword I was using was much too long. A dagger suited me much better, and still does. Have you ever handled a real blade before, Rye?"

"The only blades I've ever handled were kitchen knives," replied Rye, and they both laughed.

:-.-.-.-:

"D'you hear something, Friar Yuan?" Maple cocked her head to the side as she helped carry in a bushel of apples, just as the Abbey bells began to ring out their mellow evening tones. A brisk, but not unpleasant night was settling in.

"I don't hear anything, Miz Maple," replied the fat hedgehog, "Mayhap it was just the leaves crinkling beneath your paws?"

"It must have just been me, then…" Maple agreed, trailing off. "But for a moment, I swore I could have heard my brother's voice."

"REDWALL!"

"Funny, now I'm hearin' it too. The leaves must have adopted young Bren's voice, eh?" Yuan stopped and chuckled.

"No, no, it's not the leaves, Yuan! It's Bren, I'm sure of it!" Placing the apples hurriedly on the ground, Maple rushed towards the gate. "He's come home, Yuan!"

:-.-.-.-:

"Bren! You silly goose, where have you been for four seasons? Did you ever think of your old, lonely sister back at the abbey?" Maple grabbed Bren in a suffocating hug before he could protest. Like all warriors, Bren patiently let his sister squeeze him for several minutes before gently untangling himself from her.

"Hi, Maple! Has it been well since I've been gone?" The younger mouse smiled easily.

"Same as always, of course. But what we want to know is how _you've _been! And your friends; who are they?" The mousemaid was practically dancing up and down in delight.

"The story is long, I'll give you that. I'm fair starved, sis, can we go back to the abbey? The Redwall Patrol and I'll explain it to everyone then." Bren took Maple's paw in his. "But let me tell you…it's good to be home!"

:-.-.-.-:

"Burnscum, me ol' swashbuckler, come in, come in!" Grinning good-naturedly, Fluk welcomed the lowly horde-stoat into the Captain's quarters with open arms. Afraid that he might have caused his captain some kind of displeasure, Burnscum waited until Fluk closed the door gently behind him to fall to his knees and beg desperately.

"Oh mightiness, dun kills me, please! Wudever it was, I din do it, I swear!"

"What are you talking about, Burnscum, me best chum, eh?" Laughing gently, the Corsair captain led the terrified stoat over to half a roasted gull and a jug of seaweed grog. "I won't do you any harm, friend! Here, you must be hungry! I know that rations haven't been good lately. This should fill you right up. Don't worry, it's not poisoned." Seeing his horde beast's suspicious stare, the black stoat tore off a leg and sank his teeth into it, tearing off a strip of flesh and chewing slowly. "See?'Tis perfectly alright! Now dig in, yar!"

Burnscum needed no second bidding. He ravaged the rest of the roasted gull, the juices dripping down his bulging cheeks.

"D'you know why I brought you here, Burnscum?" asked Fluk, sitting back onto his handsome chair and watching the starved stoat eat. Burnscum shook his head slowly and swallowed his mouthful of gull with an audible gulp.

"It's because of that Blackwhip." The stoat continued leisurely. "You've seen that fox; he's been acting out of his place lately, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh aye, Cap'n!" Burnscum agreed readily. "Too big fer 'is boots!"

"We stoats need to stick together, matey!" Fluk smiled good-naturedly. "I've seen the way he pushes you and yer buddies around, and I'm not liken' it. Trouble is, though, he's a crafty one. Of course, I could always demote him on a whim, but it's rebellion that worries me."

The lowly stoat didn't know what to say, but he nodded as if he understood.

"So here's my idea. Listen quickly, and listen well, Burnscum." From within the folds of his voluminous velvet cape, Fluk drew out a tiny bottle. "I'm giving you this bottle o' the finest poison in my possession. One drop will kill anybeast in less than a minute. You are to be the new serving beast aboard my ship, _Corpse. _When Scully tells ya to bring the food to the captain tonight, slip a drop into his evening meal. Once he's good n' dead, fling him into the ocean. Then report to me. Do your job successfully and I promise you that I'll make you captain of that ship, along with a share of whatever is inside that mountain. No beast will be pushing you around, then!"

Burnscum's eyes lit up with greed. "I'll do it!" He said excitedly.

"Good…and to make the deal sweeter, when we face off against the badger and his pet bunnies tomorrow morning, I'll make you look the part of captain!" Grandly, Fluk swept off his cloak and tied it around Burnscum's scrawny shoulders. "There! Now don't that look nice?"

"Thank ye, Cap'n! I'll wear it wid pride!" Burnscum puffed out his chest.

"Hide it 'till tomorrow morning. We don't want the rest of the horde to get any ideas now, do we? And tomorrow, when we make our show of force, there's something very important I want you to say." Fluk whispered in Burnscum's ear. "Can ya remember that, matey?" The stoat nodded.

"Oh, aye, Cap'n, I kin remembers that!"

"Off you go, then, Burnscum!" Opening the door for him, Fluk allowed the stoat to swagger out before closing the door gently. "Fool," He murmured and allowed himself a chuckle.

"M'lord," Periwinkle timidly opened the door to the forge. "There are vermin out there callin' yer name! They ask to parley. The one they call Fluk Loomspear, their leader, is also there. He is a stoat who wears a purple velvet cloak."

"Tell them that I do not parley with vermin," growled Whitetooth, hammering a set of new spikes to insert on his steel knuckles.

"We 'ave, sire, but they refuse to leave," replied the runner.

"Then I will tell them myself," Abandoning the gigantic mallet, the Badger Lord made his way to the nearest window. "Please alert ten hares to join me in five minutes' time. You are dismissed."

Bobbing a quick curtsy, Periwinkle disappeared around the corner. Five minutes later, she returned with the requested ten hares, all armed with longbows. Marshbob looked out at the shores.

"Corks, there's a lot of them," The young hare sighed. Indeed, almost five score vermin of every variety stood on the shores, the shadow of five ships overlooking them. Alongside the _Hellbird _stood the _Swordfin, Corpse, Nightshade, _and_ Redeye, _each swaying ominously in the gentle waters"But we're ready when you are, Whitetooth, sah!" He said, fitting an arrow to the bowstring.

"Wait," barked Whitetooth, staying the arrow. "Fluk Loomspear is the Stoat in the purple cloak; there is none like it on the Seven Seas. Let's find out what it is that he wants, first, though I have a pretty good idea already." He turned to the window. "I am Lord Whitetooth of Salamandastron! What is it that you vermin want?"

"Whoo," said Twiggan, stuffing a paw into her ear. "Our lord can roar, all right."

"We merely want to work out an agreement, yer 'ighness!" Ripsnout shouted back, waving the white flag of truce. "M'lud, the magnificent Fluk Loomspear'll tell ya more if yer interested!"

"Keep your offer, because I don't want any of it! If you seek to conquer my mountain, you might as well turn on your miserable tails and go home! Set foot inside Salamandastron and my hares will shoot you down!" Whitetooth slammed a fist on the window sill, making the floor rumble slightly. "Be off with you, vermin!" Turning away, the mighty badger lord started back to his forge.

"Then we'll be eating rabbit roast rump by the time we're finished with you, oh mighty Badger Lord!" hollered a voice from outside. Whitetooth waved his paw and the voice was promptly silenced and replaced with the twang of hare bows as ten arrows found their mark.

**:-.-.-.-:**

**A/N: **Last update for a while; I'm just now recovering from a dreadful fever. Anyway, story-wise, guest characters will start appearing near the end of **Part One **and the beginning of **Part Two. **

_Love it? Hate it? I'll never know unless you **review!**_


	8. Chapter Seven

**Bren of Redwall**

**:-.-.-.-:**

**Chapter Seven **

"I nevvuh seen so many 'ares befour, Muvver Abbess!" The mousebabe Cissy tugged on Sonata's habit. "Why is dey 'ere?"

"Why, they're here to visit of course, Cissy!" Sonata swept up the tiny dibbun and deposited her into the arms of Sister Candace, the Infirmary keeper. The motherly mole tickled the little mousebabe with her snout and Cissy giggled.

"Oi hopes that you don't turn out loike your mum, likkle Cissy!" Chuckling to herself, the mole mum hummed a little tune to herself as she took Cissy and headed up the stairs. "Tis past yer bedtime, 'tis. Now yer mum nevva wanted ter go ter bed hoiself, burr, no."

Sergeant Barley Hightail extended a graceful leg towards the Abbess. "Charmed to make your acquaintance indeed, marm. I am Sergeant Barley Hightail of the Long Patrol of Salamandastron. Our Badger Lord, Lord Whitetooth, places thirty of his best fighting hares at your disposal, as well as sending his regards."

Bren, who was sitting nearby with Saril, Skimear, and Rye on either side of him, laughed silently at the Sergeant's suddenly impeccable, dignified speech. Susy had gone to bed with the rest of the younger abbey-beasts, but Rye was still awake, snorting into her bowl of plum and meadowcream pudding, a favorite midnight snack of the mousemaid. Saril had to turn her laughter into a cough and Skimear wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention.

Rather, the gluttonous young hare was cleaning up a large redcurrant trifle, accompanied by a half-full jug of Emmy the cellar hog's best pale autumn cider. Due to the Patrol's late arrival, the Abbess had decided that now was too late to hold a feast, and that there would be a grand one tomorrow. Every creature still awake was eager to help, anticipating the coming day.

_Excerpt from the Diary of Sister Narzi, Recorder of Redwall Abbey in Mossflower_

Oh, what happiness blooms in the heart of an old squirrel! Our Bren has returned to us after four long seasons, and what change has he gone though? No longer is he the gangly, serious young mouse who had left us four seasons ago; he comes back a seasoned warrior! We're all so happy to see him; Abbess Sonata has declared a feast in the honor of his homecoming, to be held this very afternoon, and for the coming of the Redwall Patrol!

I recently met the squirrelmaid Saril; a lovely young creature, and Skimear, an endearing glutton, as typical hares will be. They've brought us twenty-nine more hares with them with bellies that far exceed their reputation of being perilous to the end. I don't think we'll have enough food in our orchards to accommodate so many by season's end! But Alva, the chief cook at Salamandastron, can do wonders in the kitchen, and I'm sure that old Friar Yuan is glad to have her help.

To make the news even greater, they have brought back our young Amaryllis and little Susanna! Their parents were thrilled to have their children about them once more, but then again, which parents aren't? I fear that Delia would faint from all the crying and sobbing. Field mice are such emotional creatures, but I suppose it's just as well.

We are thankful for such a great harvest this season. Sister Maple recently obtained the recipe for Apple Crumble Cake, which, in my own humble opinion, will be a splendid addition to the Nameday feast. How I wish we had a badger mother in our midst again! It has been ten seasons since old Mother Cecil passed away, bless her heart. I remember sitting on her footpaws as a dibbun and listening to her stories—

Oh my! Where has the time gone? Here I am, drabbling away so garrulously while there are still games to plan! I must find Brother Roger; we are judging the biggest pies this afternoon.

"I declare," Yuan leaned back against an old cushion that was propped up beneath an apple tree in the orchard. "Those hares are somethin', ain't they, Maple?" The said mousemaid nodded sleepily, watching the rest of the festivities from afar. Bren was seated next to her, the sword of Martin returned to his rightful place above the tapestry in Great Hall. Night had wrapped her mantle upon Mossflower, but the stars aglow with the light of a thousand fireflies, paired with the lanterns places strategically around the Abbey pond, where the feast was taking place,

"You should see it, Yuan." Bren yawned and patted his stomach. "I thought that I was going to become a regular old barrel-belly if I kept eating like the hares for another season. It's a wonder the hares can stay so lean."

"It's because of all the bally exercises we higher-ups make you young'uns go through." Barley came by, plate piled high with green salad. "It's a wonder you chaps here at tha Abbey can got offal yer own comfy chairs with tha kind of vittles they serve here, wot?" The sergeant chuckled to himself. "Now, Iffen you'll be excusin' me, I think I spy ol' Tongan; otter mate o' mine from tha ol' days, ya know. Ta!"

"D'you know what would be really nice right now, sis?" Bren turned to his sister.

"If the Mother Abbess would sing you a nice lullaby to lull you to sleep, you big dibbun?" Maple patted her little brother on the head. "Don't fall asleep too fast, now."

As if on cue, the gruff, hearty voice of Hedge, the cellar hog and twin brother of Emmy, called out, "Give us a song, Mother Abbess!"

A loud roar of approval immediately followed this request.

"It looks like I'll get my wish, eh, sis?" The mouse warrior smiled. "Our Abbess isn't called "Sonata" for nothing, after all. She can charm the birds right out of their nests."

After much insistence, especially on the dibbuns' part, Sonata agreed to sing an old Redwall ballad entitled "Rose Walls," in honor of the Warriors' return. The elderly Abbess's voice rang out through the clear night in a sweet, ethereal melody, belying her many seasons.

"There's a feast to be held this day in fall  
The sun shines overhead  
O blessed be these walls of rose  
And blessed always in thy stead  
My love returns to me this day  
I wait under sky either blue or grey  
On the ramparts colored red by sun  
I wait for my love, for the day is won  
Though battered and bloody we might have ever been  
There's a welcoming sight to behold  
For I shall be there to catch him  
If but he shant be too weary to fall  
Returning is the warrior  
New scars for him to show  
Through loving eyes he gazes  
At the walls which he defends  
For within these walls of roses  
There lies eternal peace  
My heart feels so at home here  
So long as he remains with me…"

There was reverend silence as the last note faded into the still night air. Even the trees had stopped shaking their leaves. Everybeast gazed at the Abbess, transfixed by the song. Even the hares had stopped their relentless scoffing. Finally, Corporal Remy Buckskin sniffed and delicately wiped a tear from his eye.

"I say, marm, you can really blow a pretty note. Come on, chaps and chappesses, let's all give yer Abbess a roarin' round of applause before we all break down and make the rain fall with our cryin'."

Another moment of silence and thunderous applause resounded throughout the Abbey grounds. Squirrels leapt up into the Orchard trees and whistled through their teeth while the earth-bound creatures clapped their paws together and stomped their footpaws. Hares thumped their footpaws on the ground enthusiastically.

"Wasn't that beautiful, Bren? Oh, wasn't it? Bren? Bren?" Maple shook her brother's shoulder.

"Bless 'is little heart. The blighter's gone and fallen asleep. Better to let him sleep, Maple; he's had a long day. We'll wake him up when it's over." The Hedgehog cook put a hand on the mouse maid's shoulder, and she nodded.

It took a long while for the immense cheering to quiet down, but when it did, it almost immediately rose up again when Sonata declared that more songs will be sung as the night went on. Foremole Diggory and the dibbuns decided to do a collaboration of a song of a humorous sort, called "'E 'Ooh Doesn't Dig an 'Ole." The dibbuns sang in uproarious attempts at northern accents as Foremole strutted, as well as a mole can strut, around them in a circle, singing, "He who cannae dig an 'ole; cannae be nothin' but a mole!" The hypocrisy of the whole song caused much merriment among the Abbey-beasts who actually understood the lyrics. The young ones just liked watching Foremole's outrageous play-acting.

This song was followed by a marching ditty performed by the twin gallopers, Thrush and Yarrow, accompanied by fancy foot-and-ear-work. Finally, Sonata was asked to sing another song, but she declined politely, saying that her music couldn't compare to the sound of Abbey-beasts snoring in their beds, for the moon was almost directly over their heads now and the lantern lights were burning low. So it was that inhabitants and guests alike retired to their beds in peace and good cheer, unaware that someone was watching them from the shadows with beady eyes full of malice. Nor did the thing from the shadows realize that someone was watching it.

:-.-.-.-:

**A/N: **Oh, the suspense! (end sarcasm) -cough- So anyway...I've been gone for a few...days...weeks, more like, doing other things than writing, God forbid. (end sarcasm) But now I'm back, and **promise** that character requests _will _be coming shortly. And here's a hint: several of them will end up playing major roles. And some of them will die. Who will do what? You'll just have to wait.

_Love it? Hate it? I'll never know unless you **review!**_


	9. Chapter Eight

**Bren of Redwall**

**Chapter Eight**

Fargo Grim was a river rat with nary a hair on his fearsome body. His skin was black, save for one paw, which was dyed red. It was this paw he waved as he led his band of silent roaming vermin nearer towards the Redstone Abbey.

With a deft flick of the reddened paw, Fargo sent three of his band to scout around the immense structure. They returned within moments. After communicating that there was no defense at all save the wall, the river rat sent the scouts away. He hissed and his beady eyes, one black and sinister, the other milky white, lit up as he thought of all the treasures the fabled Redwall had in store for him. Oh…he would be rich, so rich! "The Castle Grim" had a nice ring to it.

"Chief!" Vex, one of the scouts, called to him, crouched down in humble obedience. "We've found something!" When Fargo gestured for him to lead on, the rat turned and fled around the corner. The rat followed at a harried pace.

Bren was wandering around in a misty field, humming a little tuneless song to himself. What he was doing here he wasn't sure of, but there was a note of urgency in his step. Suddenly, a figure walked through the parting mist.

It was a handsome warrior mouse, a bit taller than himself and wearing a glorious suit of armor. In his right paw was the beautiful, but deadly sword that Bren himself had wielded. The mouse spoke, and only then did the young mouse realize that he had seen this warrior before.

"Child of Obarian the Bold…"

Bren blinked. "Me?" He asked, and Martin the Warrior nodded.

"Child of Obarian the Bold…" He repeated, "Take up again my sword. Rouse the Longears and the Russet-tailed. Make haste and look to the Eastern sky. This is a task for you three alone. Awaken!"

There was a loud thump and Bren realized that he had fallen out of his bed. How he got there he could not recall, but it was of little importance. Most of what had occurred was also wiped from his mind. All he knew was that he needed his friends and to go to the Eastern wall. Memories of Obarian the Bold were gone.

Saril and Skimear were lodging in Cavern Hole. Flying down the stairs, he swiftly made his way to where the visitors were sleeping, grabbing the Sword of Martin down from its hooks in a great leap as he passed.

"Saril!" He hissed, and the squirrel awakened immediately, blinking sleepily and grabbing her dagger, which was lying next to her. She never went anywhere without it.

"Whosere?" She whispered, blinking furiously.

"It's just me, Bren. Come on, Saril! Wake Skimear as fast as you can! We need to get up on the Eastern wall! It's important!" Quickly, Bren explained Martin's dream to Saril. "Now get him up."

"Good luck with that," Saril grumbled. "He sleeps like a bag of rocks, that one." But all the same, she crawled over to where the young hare was sleeping, abnormally long ears wrapped around his shoulders like an extra blanket. "Skimear…Skimear, wake up!" Skimear only snorted and turned away from Saril. Exasperated, the squirrelmaid unsheathed her dagger and poked the hare in the bottom with the very tip. He woke up with a start.

"Whosere?" He gasped loudly, and both Bren and Saril tackled him.

"Be quiet, Skimear! Don't wake anyone else!" Bren flung a paw in front of his friend's mouth. "We need to get to the Eastern walltop quickly."

"Eh?" Skimear looked confused. "But it isn't even bally light, yet! What's the big idea?"

"Martin the Warrior just sent Bren a message…only for us three. We must follow his guidance. Now come on!" Saril pulled one of Skimear's ears and the three young beasts ran towards the door.

"Oh, corks…" Bren and Saril each sat on one of Skimear's ears, keeping him low to the ground. "An awful lot o' the blighters, wot?"

"Why are they here?" whispered Saril, and Bren shrugged.

"I'm not sure, but it can't be good. We don't usually see vermin around here." The young warrior-mouse held a tighter grip on his sword.

"'Old still ya blasted fur ball!"

"No need ta speak to a chap in that tone o' voice, marm." Said Skimear in a hurt voice. "I didn't even move a blinkin' muscle!"

"Don't look at me, Skimear. I didn't say anything." The squirrelmaid answered, shaking her red-furred head. "I think it's the vermin down there…I think they have a captive or something!"

"Sh…" Bren lifted a paw to his lips and gestured for them to listen in. There seemed to be a fair bit of commotion near the wall. As far as they could tell, two shadowy figures were wrestling with a smaller, paler, creature squeaking in protest.

"I say, my good fellows!" The smaller creature was saying, "Let me go now, I say! Let me go! I have a wife and six children to look after! Why, the nerve of you…you…ruffians! I dare say, let me go this instant!"

Skimear craned his head as far as he could without straining his ears. "That's a beast in trouble, if I'm not mistaken."

"No, you're not." replied Bren, peering down into the darkness below. "He isn't an Abbey-beast, that's for sure. He's not wearing one of our habits."

"It's a _rabbit!_" gasped Saril suddenly, her bushy tail curling and uncurling.

"What? A rabbit? Are you sure?" Both the hare and the mouse squinted and tried to make out if what Saril saw really was a rabbit. Sure enough, a random ray of moonlight shone upon the Abbey, illuminating the entire Eastern wall. Two pairs of unmistakably long, slender ears popped into view.

"You don't see many rabbits around here, do you?" Saril furrowed her brows. "They usually live deeper in Mossflower, don't they? Even I don't see them that often."

"We can ask him when he's safe behind these walls." The warrior-mouse drew his sword.

"No!" said Saril fiercely, tugging on his sleeve. "Don't even think about it, Bren. You'll definitely die if you jump down from this height."

"Then what do you propose we do?"

"Do you have your sling with you?" The question was directed at the hare, who shook his head. Rolling her eyes with a short sigh, Saril turned to leave. "Then you two stay here and make sure the vermin don't get away." With a flick of her head, the squirrel was down the battlements and away towards the Great Hall.

"Maids," said Skimear, shaking his head and massaging his left ear slowly. "…And I didn't even bring a midnight snack." The two young beasts could do nothing but watch.

Quickly enough, Saril returned with her trusty bow and arrow.

"I have four arrows." She whispered. "Do you think it'll be enough? I'm a little rusty at this; I haven't been practicing lately."

"There are only two of them," answered Bren. "You're the best archer I know. And a warrior like you doesn't worry about her accuracy at times like this."

"Right," agreed Skimear, "It's in yer blood, marm."

"Don't call me 'marm.'" The squirrel hissed before lifting the arrow to eye-level. The first arrow left her paws with a twang and caught the first rat between the shoulder-blades. He slumped over silently. Startled, his mate poked him with his dagger, but when no response came, obviously looked agitated. He started to cry out when the second arrow landed square between his eyes.

"Who's there?" asked the scared rabbit.

"Hold on, friend!" Bren called quietly into the darkness below. "Wait for us; we'll open the gate for you!"

"Oh thank heavens!" The rabbit cried, twitching his ears. "But be quiet…there are surely more of them about!"

"Skimear, you alert the Mother Abbess. Saril will come with me to open the gate." The squirrel and the hare nodded at their orders and the three friends hurried to their tasks.

:-.-.-.-: 

**A/N: **Neh...I've been neglecting "Bren" lately, and for that, I apologize. I'm trying to get through all the formalities early on so that the requests can be fulfilled. They make up the meat of the story, you know. 3 I promise I'll try to get chapters up sooner next time.

_Love it? Hate it? I'll never know unless you **review!**_


	10. Chapter Nine

**Bren of Redwall**

**Chapter Nine**

The rabbit's name was Penidrop.

"Dearie me," He fretted over a cup of steaming mint tea, his paws sliding all over each other. "Oh Dearie, Dearie, Dearie…whatever shall I do? The missus will surely worry, and my children, oh gracious me, my children!"

"Don't you worry, Mr. Penidrop," said Sonata comfortingly, patting the distraught parent on the back. Some of the older abbey beasts like Narzi the Abbey Recorder and Emmy the Cellar hog were awake, hustling and bustling about. "I'm sure your wife and children are fine. Tomorrow, we will provide you with an escort to bring you home safely. In the meanwhile, why don't you tell us your story?"

"Very well, very well," Penidrop took a deep breath. "It all started yesterday, noon, almost, yes, I do believe it was around noon. The missus was out tending the garden, to be sure, to be sure, and the children were in the den doing whatever it is that the children do. Why, now that I think about it, the eldest of mine, Tizzy, is almost a leveret, yes, a leveret. I was planning to go on a long fishing trip with an old friend of mine; Amos the mole; you've heard of him, of course. A splendid fellow, I must say."

Sonata nodded. "Yes, we have had him as a guest here many times. Please go on, Mr. Penidrop."

"Ah yes, I shall, I shall…now where was I…oh yes! Amos and I were about to go off to one of the smaller tributaries branching off from the River Moss, yes, the River Moss, when I remembered that I forgot my tackle box. You cannot go fishing without a tackle box, my no. So I say to Amos, 'Amos my friend, I must go back and get my tackle box. We simply cannot go fishing without it!' He agrees with me, my friend Amos, a most agreeable mole, as most moles will be."

"Hurr…ye be aroight about that 'un, Penidroop zurr." Foremole smiled up at the rabbit, black button-eyes disappearing under his velvety wrinkles.

"Yes, yes indeed. On our way back to my charming cottage, Amos says to me that while I go get my tackle, he'll dig around for bait; you know the type, I'm sure you do. Tidbits like tasty little worms, oh, but not to me, my no, to the fishes, naturally, yes."

Skimear made gestures of wanting the rabbit to get on with it, but Saril tugged on his tail to keep him back. "Sh…" She whispered, "Let him finish, Skimear."

Meanwhile, the rabbit was still rambling on and on about what kind of bait which fish liked, and he looked as if he might go on forever if it hadn't been for Bren and the Abbess, who politely cleared their throats simultaneously.

"Oh, excuse me." Penidrop sighed. "I have lost track of myself again, haven't I? Yes, yes of course I have. I shall now go on." He gave a little cough.

"I rummaged around our den for a while, the children can get it quite messy, you know, but the missus does an impeccable job of keeping it shiny-clean most of the time, that she does. I couldn't find the tackle box and I suspected it was out back, so I went to the door and looked around."

Here, he shuddered daintily. "As soon as I closed the door behind me, I was…bagged, by two filthy vermin! One was black with a massively large gold earring in his right ear; the other had the most terrible red eyes I had ever, ever seen! I didn't even get a chance to cry out for help! Next thing I knew, it was night-time and I was brought outside these walls." After that, the rabbit seemed reluctant to speak any more.

Abbess Sonata decided that it was definitely time for bed, now. There was a lot to swallow, and if they slept on it, possibly, a solution would come to them.

But sleep would not come to Bren. He tossed and turned in his bed. Something was definitely not right. There were so many questions still unanswered…why were there vermin in Mossflower Wood? Why had they kidnapped Penidrop? What was their purpose? Was Penidrop's family okay?

The questions kept rotating around in his head until the warrior-mouse fell into an uncomfortable doze.

The next time he opened his eyes, there was sunlight filtering through his window and the normal sound of morning bustle from outside. Bren yawned and stretched before lying back down in his bed. Suddenly, he realized that he was hungry. As he was getting out of bed, there was a knock on the door and Maple came in.

"G' morning, sleepy head!" The mouse-maid grinned at her brother. "I heard that a lot happened last night. Yuan told me this morning."

Bren nodded sleepily. "Mm…"

"You can tell it to me over breakfast." Grabbing his wrist, she half-led, half-pulled him towards the stairs. "Quickly, before it gets cold! Or all gone; the hares have probably all woken up by now."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n!" Bren saluted and hastened his step.

As it turned out, Maple was right. Cavern Hole was even more crowded than usual with an additional thirty hares and a squirrel.

"Whoo…" Yuan wiped his head spikes. "Bless them; they're worse than all the Guosim shrews in Mossflower put together! It's a wonder Miz Alva can put up with it all!"

"Bren! Hi!" Rye came bustling over to them from across the room. "Good morning, Maple, Friar Yuan." She curtsied.

"Good morning, Rye." The two older Abbey-beasts replied.

"If you'll excuse me now, I think I see a scone that hasn't been touched yet! Tell me about last night later, okay, brother?" With a wave, Maple pushed through the throng and disappeared.

"I managed to nab a flask of Dandelion and Burdock juice and a few strawberry scones before everyone arrived. Care to share it with me?" The pretty mouse-maid held up a basket.

"I'd love to, Miss Rye." Bren smiled at her and she smiled back. "Shall we look for a less-crowded place? I keep thinking Skimear is going to pop out at any minute and steal a bite right from my paw."

The two mice ended up picnicking in front of the tapestry of Martin the Warrior. It was a lot more peaceful and the faint buzz of conversation in Cavern Hole provided a comforting atmosphere.

"I never thanked you for saving Susy and I that day," said Rye, and Bren looked surprised.

"You don't have to thank me, Miss Rye." He said, "It's my duty, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes…I suppose it is, because you're the Abbey Warrior and everything." She took another mouthful of scone before continuing. "Will you tell me about all the places you've been? Like that gigantic mountain all the hares come from?"

"Well…Salamandastron is the biggest mountain I've ever seen. Skimear says that sometimes, it even spits fire into the sky, even though I've never seen it. Lord Whitetooth is the current Badger Lord; he says that old Mother Cecil was his grandmother." The mouse took a swig of dandelion and burdock juice. "There are a lot of corridors and chambers; it took me a long time to be able to navigate through the mountain. But there are over nine-hundred hares living there, so they were able to help me out."

"Salamandastron borders the sea; it's the only thing bigger than the mountain. I can't even see across it, that's how big it is. And the seabirds…"

Rye listened attentively as Bren described to her the home he had adopted for the last four seasons.

:-.-.-.-:

**Authoress's Note: **Good news. It's finally time for character requests to show up. Keep in touch, neh?

_Love it? Hate it? I'll never know unless you **review!**_


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